Homecoming
by FictionalSky
Summary: Hermione Granger returns to London after 5 years of trying to forget the past, but her plan immediately backfires as she encounters the very person that made her run in the first place. He still hates her and she isn't that fond of him either. Will they be able to work out their differences this time or will the secrets from the past ruin their shot of happiness?
1. Prologue

It had been five years since the Second Wizarding War ended. Five long years since Hermione Granger had last walked among known faces, breathed the air filled with magic, that was no different than the air anywhere else in the world, but still gave her that feeling of being where she belonged. A feeling of home. Five years since she had last walked past the stores that seemed so special when she was a little girl just entering the wizarding world. Everything was still the same, same faces rushing up and down Diagon Alley, same old witches selling potions and home-made concoctions and same dark shadows only the brave dared enter.

After having spent the last five years travelling around the world, fighting with other wizards and witches for the better treatment of house-elves and most importantly, healing her soul from the effects of cruelty and darkness that had surrounded her during the war, she was now re-entering the same world she had escaped, hoping she'd be able to finally settle down and begin again.

Arriving in London a week ago, it had taken her a lot of courage to owl Ginny and let her know she has returned for good. She'd been in contact with her friends over the years but she knew their relationship had become distant, nothing like the relationship they had once shared. Of course Ginny and the others have never made her feel that way, but some things were hard to say, especially to your friends. Hermione knew that better than anyone else. She was sure her friends would welcome her with open arms and wouldn't ask questions regarding her return. Or her absence until now.

Inviting Ginny to join her shopping had made her feel excited. As much as she hated confessing it, she hated the fact it took her half a decade to return. She should've come back years ago instead of being petrified by fear. What was the thing she was afraid of, even she wasn't sure. Perhaps her past coming back to haunt her, maybe her friends judging her absolutely ridiculous decisions or just the fact she'd most probably regret returning sooner or later.

She entered a small cafe with enormous windows looking upon the street filled with the passing crowd that had been once their favorite meeting spot. There they planned their days, rested after hours of hard work or just chilled out by the fireplace sipping on their butterbeers. Settling herself in a secluded corner that had a good view over the whole place and ordering a cup of rose tea, Hermione waited for her friend to appear.

She didn't have to wait long to hear the bird that sat peacefully next to the door sing softly, indicating the arrival of a new guest. Hermione looked up and met a pair of brown eyes and a soft smile that she knew all too well.

She smiled back and the readhead made her way to her, her smile growing bigger the closer she got.

"Hermione," Ginny said softly and walked directly into Hermione's arms, embracing her friend tightly. "I missed you so much." She breathed softly into Hermione's curls and in that moment all the doubts she might have had about her return melted into nothing, as she realized coming back was the smartest decision she had made in a while.

"Me too. I missed everyone so much." She rubbed Ginny's back in a soothing manner and the two friends sat down into the cozy armchairs.

After Ginny had ordered a cup of coffee they stared at eachother quietly, both embracing the subtle changes time had made in their faces. Long gone were the chubby round cheeks and messy hair; Hermione and Ginny had both grown up to be beautiful women with defined facial structures and soft flowing hair that shined in the light.

"Merlin, you should've owled me. We would've prepared a welcome back party and Mom would've made your favorite apple pie."

"That's exactly the reason why I didn't. I needed some time to settle down. I don't need a welcome back party, just being back home is enough. But the apple pie, that I won't refuse!" Hermione laughed and took a sip of her tea. "I suppose your mom would be able to make one by this weekend, what do you think?"

"Are you kidding?! Of course she would. She already told me to drag you to the Burrow on Friday so we'd have a family dinner."

"Great." She made a pause and gave her companion a sad smile. "You took care of Mum and Dad while I was gone, right?" She didn't look at Ginny to hear the answer but out onto the street that seemed more like vivid flashes of colours than a group of people passing by. She felt guilty for burdening Molly with it and not doing it herself but she had not been ready to come back home earlier.

"Of course! Mom and I, we visit them every few months. Mom even makes a bouquet from the roses that grow down in the back of the yard to take with us. Do you remember those roses? Your mom loved it when you brought them back home with you." Ginny reassuringly squeezed Hermione's hand that had started making small circles on the hardwood table.

Hermione smiled as she remembered the excited expression her mother had made when she had brought home Molly's first bouquet. The colours of the petals changed depending on the temperature and both of her parents had simply been fascinated by it.

"Yeah, Mum did love those."

Hermione hadn't thought about her parents' deaths for a while now. Not that she had forgotten, no, but she simply couldn't take the pain of knowing they were now gone. The war had taken many innocent victims and even though they had won, it was still a very bitter success. Too many had died for them to rejoice when it was all over, too many had been damaged beyond repair for them to start fresh.

"How's everyone at home?" She didn't dare mention Fred, but Ginny knew what the question meant anyway. "Fine. Mom's a bit better and George is hanging on too. They're going to be okay... We're going to be okay, I'm sure of it." Ginny's eyes began to water, so she quickly turned her head away and awkwardly got up. "We should get going. You said you wanted to go Flourish and Blotts."

"Yes. We should go." She didn't press the discussion further and after paying the bill, the two witches made their way to the bookstore a few streets away.

* * *

They entered the bookstore, and Hermione gingerly remembered all the times she had spent walking amongst these shelves, picking books she wanted to read, gathering the knowledge she yearned to have.

The store was full of people chatting, browsing through different sections and comparing books. It was crowded and noisy, but Hermione didn't mind that much. Ginny made her way to the sports area saying there was a book on Quidditch she wanted to check out and Hermione just randomly chose a shelf at the end of the shop and scanned the titles of the books.

There was a young voice coming from somewhere near her, a child trying to convince whomever he was with to leave.

"Can we go yet? This shop is boring! I wanna go see the owls!"

Hermione's lips broke into a smile at his demanding tone and she shook her head in amusement. She was about to head in a different direction, but the voice that responded to the child's complaining stopped her dead in her tracks.

"I'm busy right now. Go find your father won't you? I'm sure he'll take the time to take you see the owls."

Praying that she had heard it wrong, Hermione turned around to see Narcissa Malfoy standing by the little boy, caressing his cheek before turning her attention to the crowd all around them. If she hadn't know better, she would've thought her mind was playing a trick on her, but there was only only wizarding family with that hair colour. Hermione could only see the boy from behind, but she knew exactly who he was. That platinum blond hair that was a trademark of the family was enough for her to know who she was looking at. And with that came the realization of who else was definitely nearby at that very moment.

The boy's father – Draco Malfoy.


	2. Chapter I

Hermione stared at the couple. The woman was scanning the crowd, no doubt looking for her son, and the child was pulling her hand to get back her attention. When she didn't spare him a glance, he turned his head around. All of a sudden, his eyes met hers.

Brown met brown, and Hermione's heart sank. The voices all around her grew extremely loud, almost to the point it physically hurt to listen, just to disappear altogether in the next second. She heard her heart banging loudly in her ears, and it seemed she was more profoundly aware of the blood flowing through her veins. The air left her lungs so suddenly, the world around her started spinning. She grabbed the edge of the first thing she could get a hold of, and squeezed hard until her fingers went white.

Her arm muscles burned with the exertion, but she kept her eyes on his, almost like he had cast a spell on her, one that made her completely unable to look away, and absorbed her entire being into his eyes.

Those eyes, much like her own, lingered a while longer. Just as suddenly as their eyes had met, the contact was broken, and he was again begging his grandmother for attention. He was not even remotely aware of the effect he had provoked in the woman who was standing across the room, still staring at him.

"Hermione!" She was pulled out of her trance by Ginny roughly shaking her shoulder. Her confused eyes met Ginny's concerned gaze. "Are you feeling sick?" She still couldn't hear a thing, so she just observed her lips, trying to make sense of what the girl was saying. Ginny's lips moved really slowly, almost unnaturally slowly, and Hermione tried to nod her head, but wasn't sure if she had actually succeeded or not.

Ginny looked at her with fear in her eyes, and her lips started moving again. "Hermione! Are you alright?" This time Hermione heard her voice, but it was quiet, like it was coming from a great distance.

"Yeah." She surprised herself that she managed to choke out a hoarse reply. Having found her voice she tried to add more power to it, and spoke again, this time more loudly, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired."

It was clear the redhead didn't believe her. "You look horrible. We should go to the hospital if…"

"NO!" Her voice came out harsh, and Hermione felt extremely bad about it. She hadn't intended to react so strongly to her words, but all of a sudden she wanted to hide, and never crawl out of the darkness again.

"No," she repeated more gently. "Let's just go home. I'm tired from the trip, that's all. I'm absolutely fine." Letting go of the hardwood table she had been gripping until now, and making a tentative step forward, her eyes moved to the place where she had seen Narcissa Malfoy and the child, but the two weren't there anymore. She took a deep breath, and turned to face Ginny again.

"I'm sorry I scared you. Let's call it a day, okay? I'll stop by the Burrow on Friday."

"Are you sure you're feeling well? You're really pale." Ginny's eyes scanned her body as if she was looking for an injury that would explain her friend's sudden sickness.

"Positive. I'll be fine after I sleep it off."

Hermione managed to convince Ginny she wasn't going to collapse, and even managed to send her home, despite the fact the redhead had wanted to accompany Hermione to her place to make sure she really was alright.

If Hermione were a smart person, she would've turned the other way and Apparated straight home, but it appeared to be the exact opposite as she walked back to the bookstore. Making sure she wasn't spotted she found a darker, more secluded corner not far from the entrance, and waited for the Malfoys to exit.

It didn't take long for Narcissa and the child to leave the bookstore, especially since the child was still persistent about going to see the owls, and his father was still nowhere to be seen.

"Alright, alright, we're going to see the owls now. Merlin, child, sometimes I wonder who you got that temper from."

"Daddy said I got it from you." He chuckled like he had known it would provoke a certain response, and eyed his companion carefully.

"Did he now? I better have a chat with your father when we get home. Filling your head with nonsense." She ruffled his hair playfully, and grabbed his hand. "Shall we go, my precious grandson?" Not waiting for a response from his smiling lips, the woman pulled him forward, and made way through the now slightly less crowded street.

Hermione stepped out of the shadows as soon as they had turned away from her, and caught a quick glimpse of the boy again. He was beautiful. If she hadn't known better, she would've thought she was staring at the younger version of Draco. He had platinum blond hair just like his father, which was slightly curled and ruffled, probably the work of his own little hands. Another thing he shared with his father, was his light complexion, his face was as pale as Draco's, and his features just as pronounced as well. The only thing that made her completely sure she was indeed not looking at Draco were his eyes. Soft brown eyes that had such a warmth in them. Not like his father's silver grey that never showed any emotions; his were the eyes of a happy child who had enormous amounts of curiosity and kindness in him.

She couldn't help but think of Draco at that moment. Draco, whom she had always perceived as "Malfoy," Draco, who had always made Harry's life miserable and consequently Ron's and her's as well. Draco, who never knew how to keep his mouth shut, and always came up with a hurtful comment that was so precisely aimed it always hit the heart. Draco, who was responsible for Dumbledore's death, and who had walked away not looking back once. Draco, the person she never thought about, because he was a rotten piece of filth, a pureblood bastard who didn't deserve forgiveness, hell, he didn't even deserve recognition from her side. She sure didn't want to know of his existence.

Draco, whom she didn't even hate, so little were her feelings for him, and Draco, a person she had desired just one time, and in then end regretted it for the last few years.

* * *

A few years earlier

When Hermione entered The Leaky Cauldron she had least expected to see a certain blond Slytherin sitting in the far corner of the pub, an empty bottle of firewhisky on the table and a half full one on his mouth.

She had seen him earlier today, at Fred's funeral. It was clear his intention had been to come and go unnoticed, but she had noticed him anyway. Standing in the far back, his lips forming a thin line, and his eyes staring at the fresh dirt covering Fred's resting place.

The mourners had stayed for a long time, and surprisingly so had he. He had waited for all of them to leave, safely hidden behind the other tombs and headstones, and after Ginny had almost carried her mother away, he had approached the grave.

Hermione had observed him from the distance, his mind clearly lost to his surroundings as he hadn't noticed her at all, and she had felt a need to rush down to him and hit him. Push him, slap him, maybe even use magic on him. How dared he come to Fred's resting place? How dared he stand right next to his family mourning over him, crying over their loss?

He had stood still for a long time, just looking at the stone and at the colourful flowers laid upon it, and then he leaned his hand on the grey stone. Hermione could see his entire form shaking, and even with his head held down, she had known. He had been crying. His blond hair had moved up and down as he had choked on his sobs, repeating words she couldn't hear like a mantra.

At that moment Hermione had let go of her anger. Not because she had forgiven him, no, that had hardly been the case. It had been because he had shown Fred that one more person was grieving him. And Fred deserved that, he truly did. She had turned around prepared to leave, but stood rooted on her spot, her eyes stopping on a slowly retiring figure. Red hair. Her mind had only registered the red hair, the hair she had seen so many times, the hair that once had an identical pair.

And she had followed him, knowing he had accepted Draco's apology. If he of all people could do it, then by Merlin, so could she.

A couple of hours later and here he was, drinking himself to oblivion, much like Hermione planned to do with herself. She had already drunk a lot at the Burrow, and now she came to get the job done. She made her way through the pub, and without even thinking twice, plopped herself on the chair across him.

He raised his eyes from the table, head wobbling side to side and it took him a few seconds to put a name to her face.

"Granger." He growled staring at her. "Come to enjoy my misery?" He smirked, and raised the bottle to his lips. Downing the liquid like it was water, and wiping his mouth with his palm, he looked at her again. "Didn't think the day would come eh, to be able to watch Draco Malfoy at his weakest."

She snatched the bottle, and made a few big gulps. "Shut up, will you? I'm in a foul mood as it is." And she raised the bottle once more.

"You do know I won't be fucking paying for that bottle, don't you? And if I were you, I'd consider changing the table." He waved to the waiter, and another bottle floated over from the bar, directly into his hand.

"I don't think you're able to carry through your threats at the moment." She pulled of a smirk, much like the one he had given her before. Seeing him like this made her want to went out her frustrations as it was very clear this will likely be the time she'll win the fight.

"Suit yourself then. I'm in no mood to share conversation with the likes of you." He stood up, and made his way to the hallway, his bottle still gripped firmly in his hand, leaving her alone.

She ran after him, feeling mean, wanting to get into a fight. "Aw, poor Malfoy, the poor boy nobody loves, left alone to rot in a dark corner. Tell me, are you afraid I might make you cry?" He stopped his wobbly walk, and turned around just enough for her to see his profile.

His eyes, that were usually cold and unresponsive, now had a certain depth to it. She had seen him looking at her like that a few times when they were still at school, but never made much of it. Now she had to admit he looked a lot more dangerous drunk, than he did sober.

Slowly he turned around completely, his body standing tall and tense, and looked directly in her eyes. "Are you trying your luck, Granger? Cause if you want me to hurt you, I swear I will." His words were cold and whispered, and made it clear he was in no mood to deal with her. But having been drinking she was more courageous than she normally was, and as he towered over her form, she felt an even bigger need to revolt.

She tilted her head to the side, and smiled. "I don't think you're capable of doing anything." She moved closer, and took his bottle. She emptied the content in one go, and let the bottle drop to the floor, landing with a loud thud. "I'm not afraid of you."

The mood changed when she said that, and honestly Hermione had wanted just that. She couldn't blame it on the drink entirely, though a large portion of her bravery had came from a bottle, since she had known what she wanted the moment she entered the pub, and saw him sitting there. She had wanted to provoke him, and get rid of all of her anger on him. She'd fight him, and in the process of hurting him she'd vent her frustrations.

She had been living like a ghost since the War ended. Losing her family and friends to a cause she had once found so important, suddenly felt meaningless. She was damaged, haunted by the screams of people she had hurt and killed, followed by the images of corpses lying around, their eyes lifeless and cold. She needed to wake up, and if it meant provoking Draco Malfoy, the person who was connected with all the horrible things that had happened, then she would do it.

He made a move towards her, and she grabbed her wand tightly, pulling it out of her jacket. She didn't break eye contact with him, and observed him as he lowered his head so their eyes were on the same level.

"I won't give you the pleasure of using magic on you, Mudblood. But don't think I can't hurt you in a different way." His grey orbs never left her brown ones and as wicked as it sounded, she felt he wouldn't harm her in the slightest.

"Maybe you can. But you won't." This was a game of will. She would prove to him she is not afraid and make him stand down. Calling his bluff was not a thing she would try when he was sober, but now, she had a good chance of winning in their staring contest.

He nodded slowly, a plan clearly forming in his head as his lips shaped into his trademark smirk. He moved quickly, very much like a snake, grabbing her arm, and yanking her hard against him. Their bodies crashed, and she felt the air leave her lungs. Her head hit his chin, making her cry out in pain, but before she could take another breath his other hand yanked her head to him and their lips crashed. Her lips hurt from the impact, and he was pulling her head so hard she was sure he'd pull her hair out.

Taking a loud breath through her nose, she tried to push him away. Draco pulled back, and stayed still for a long time, and Hermione wondered if she had felt this was coming all along. Suddenly it seemed she had been asking for it all along. Her breathing was erratic, but she wasn't sure if it was because of the lack of oxygen or the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

"I wouldn't bet on that." He breathed, and kissed her a second time. 


End file.
